


The Cold / Oneshot

by juustpeachy



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Jack Frost - Freeform, Multi, Post-Rise of the Guardians, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juustpeachy/pseuds/juustpeachy
Summary: You meet an oddly interesting stranger in one of your favourite places.





	The Cold / Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here's a super short oneshot. Merry belated Chrystler. It's snowing outside.

 

 

The maple gardens.

 

It was the one place where you found the most peace- the most tranquility, in your small town. Not only was it an amazing place to reminisce in your ice- skating, snow angeled past, but a sanctuary for some fresh, cold winter air, free of the stress of priorities.

“Beautiful,” you remark to yourself, breathing in deeply and exhaling the outside, “Finally, just one snowy Christmas.” 

“That stung.”

You jump.

 

Turning in circles, you scan your surroundings. Who was that? “Uh… Hello?” you ask, your heart beating loudly.

There’s a blinding silence before the trees around you rustle, and you see a figure appear in front of you. It was a boy. A boy with frosted- white hair, a blue worn out hoodie and brown pants. A boy with a stick, and… no shoes?

You see him glance up at you as he scans you, looking at you from top to bottom before his eyes land on yours. “Are you, okay?” you ask the boy, clearly seeing that he has a playful smirk on his face. Where did he come from? Where are his _shoes_?

“No, actually,” he answers, slowly walking towards the pond, “I’m perplexed. What was it you said earlier? About Christmas?”

 _Do not to talk to strangers_ , you remember. But, why didn’t he feel like a stranger? Why wasn’t this… strange? “Um… Finally having a white Christmas?”

“Ouch”, he expresses again, clutching his chest with his hand, “Right in the ego plexus.”

 

You can feel the confused look begin to plaster on your face, and you form one thought; his ego mustn’t be strong if he’s internally broken about snow. “Right… okay. I’m gonna get going. Have a good one.” You begin to turn your heel, yet you’re stopped abruptly by the same voice.

“Your hat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hat. It’s gone.”

You place your hand on your head, feeling nothing. You squint your eyes in annoyance and reopen them, seeing that the white haired boy has disappeared. “What?” you say aloud, vigorously blinking and scanning between trees. You feel something tap your shoulder, and you’re startled as you turn around. It was him, and he held your hat.

“Oh, thanks,” you start, “where was it?”

He began to explain. But, as he stood closer… you began to make out his every facial feature. His face was round, but defined. His hair stood messily on his head, almost glittering white in the sunlight. His pale skin complimented his cold appearance, yet something was stopping you from blinking. Something was pulling you in, keeping you from looking away.

 

His eyes.

They were alluring. Tiny specks of white sparkled as his eyes looked into yours. Not only were they big and bold, but they shone a brilliant crystal blue color, making it seem as though they were diamonds. And they were beautiful.

“You’re not listening to me at all, are you?” You see him smile, raising an eyebrow with your hat still in hand.

You blink and shake your head. “Uh, sorry about that. I should go.” You turn your heel and dig your hands into your pockets, starting your way back home. You pray that you never see him again; you just stared at his face for a solid minute.

 

“Without your hat?” You hear him ask.

 

You turn back around, seeing him lean on his stick, handing you your hat. You grasp a hold of it, but your fingers skid the palm of his hand, and you feel a cold spark. You look up to see him looking at you with a smile forming on his face, and you try to avoid his glance.

“I’ll… be going, now.” You tell him, placing your hands back in your pockets.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he says.

“I never said it.” You say, seeing him look down with a smile. “It’s Y/N.”

“Jack.” He says as he holds out his hand. You extend yours to shake his, and you dig it back into your pocket.

“See you around.” You hear him say. “Yeah, you too.” You reply, making your way back home.

 

As you make it back onto the sidewalk, millions of questions begin to form inside of your buzzing mind. What was he doing in the gardens? Why did he have a stick? How are your toes frostbitten, yet he seemed perfectly fine without shoes?

Part of you thinks that this stranger is peculiarly mad. Yet, part of you hopes that you meet him again, because he was peculiarly intriguing.

 


End file.
